I got inspired after someone gave me an angst idea…
I SWEAR TO THE LOVE OF GOD I LOVE THIS AU GRRR
Btw... ANGST ALERT!!
What if...? (SUPER BAD ENDING)
. . .
I say it again, I love the AU, the story, the twists… it's VERY GOOOOOOD
(Oh right, speaking of drawings, I promise to start drawing the recent requests. I wanted to do it digitally, but I don't think it'll be possible due to time (just in case, I drew this in class 😔👈))
Tags: Angst, lore, oc lore, Rayna Quinn, original fiction, original characters, character lore, TW SH
TW: Self harm, but not in the usual context?
Credits: Creds to @/saradika-graphics for the gorgeous dividers <33
Tagging: LMK if you'd like to be added or taken off of the tag list :) (NPT) @trinketcollectingcrow, @light-of-the-room, @sharlotscarletfox, @apazwtsn @/twoandahalfdimes
Author's note: I KEEP POSTPONING THESE IM SO SORRY >:( Also I started adding people who show interest in my ocs to the tags list so haha you've been dragged into this >:) (f you wanna be taken off please tell me :)!) but yeah this is a bit of rayna lore :0 epic I know !! beware that there's some SH but not in the usual way as stated in the tags. Reblogs 'nd comments are appreciated! Enjoy!
-I was a kid but I wasn't clueless-
Rowen sat beside Rayna, his hands in the grass and the pleasant evening breeze caressing his face with a gentleness only nature could harness. He glanced at his friend who was staring into the sky, watching the stars begin to twinkle, a quiet reassurance that even when reality felt warped, they would always glimmer for those who needed such consolation.
“So,” He began, shifting his body to face her fully, “You wanted to come here?” It was unusual for her to want to be so tranquil.
She nodded, “On an evening like this, I’d rather be anywhere other than my house.”
He raised an eyebrow curiously, maybe he was just overthinking it, but something about the way she worded it made him curious. He knew that she chose her words carefully, and that each one had a meaning. “Why a house and not a home?”
Humming, she twirled a daisy in-between her fingers, “A house and a home are different,” She began, looking around for a good example, “Like, I don’t know, how the stars shimmer in the sky to let us know that we can sleep to forget, even if it’s temporary, whereas the sun rises as a painful reminder that our bad days aren’t just nightmares that we can wake up from.”
Rowen huffed in amusement, “That,” He started, lazily pointing a finger at her, “Was a load of bullshit.”
Rayna rolled her eyes in irritation, “Pardon me for having bad English skills,” She muttered, raising her hands up in defence.
He chuckled, shrugging as he glanced off into the distance, a comfortable silence coming over them.
As they sat beside each other, Rowen glanced at her, speaking up once more, “What you did for William yesterday was pretty nice of you. I mean, he’s pretty much an arse to our entire school, and yet you helped him out.”
“Yeah, because he might be an arse, but he’s a human,” She frowned sympathetically, “And I don’t know about you, but I know what it’s like to have your struggles overlooked. To be seen as dramatic instead of valid. To have to resort to drastic measures just to be seen.” She muttered, her hand moving down to her leg to itch the scar that terrorised her thigh.
He nodded, having a moment of silence to process that thought. He couldn’t help noticing the way she shifted, the way she talked, and that scar… Glancing up at her through his eyelashes, he chose his next words carefully, knowing that how he worded this would determine her answer, “I’ve been meaning to ask you,” He sat up straight, clearly concerned, “That scar. What- what happened?” He tilted his head, questioning her gently.
Her eyebrows raised in surprise as she looked down at the white mark, a stark contrast to the darker pigment of her skin. The words got stuck in her throat, “Oh, uhm, it’s nothing you should worry about.” She deflected, a vacant look entering her eyes.
“Rayna, please. Whatever it is. No matter what happened. It stays between us. I want to understand you better.” He protested. Not against her, but against her doubts. Battling desperately with her mind, wanting nothing more than to hear her tales.
She tensed as he placed a hand on her shoulder, breathing out nervously, “I- well, it’s a long story.”
“It’s a long scar.”
She smiled, although it was clearly forced, “Yeah, well. It’s- it’s probably easier if I start at the beginning.”
· ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·
Rayna sat at her small desk, her IPad resting against the table to stop it from falling over. Her eyes were fixated on the screen, pieces of paper scattered across the table as she listened intently to the video.
“How are you supposed to fold a piece of paper five times?…” She muttered to herself in confusion, outstretching her hand to rewind the video, groaning in exasperation as the IPad fell forwards, the wall clearly not being enough to keep it stable.
She looked down at the paper, crumpling it up in her hand with a sigh of frustration. She stood up, dusting the scrap pieces off of her legs and onto the floor. She could pick them up later.
Falling back onto her bed, she looked up at her blank ceiling, comparing it to her walls which were covered with what she thought were crappy drawings.
As she lay there, she couldn’t help the sense of doubt and annoyance she felt towards herself. Why did passion have to be so hard? Why was something she loved so deeply also something she loathed so heavily? The thing she adored was the thing she was worst at, and it felt like no matter how hard she tried, she’d never get any better.
She began to spiral as she glanced at the mess she’d made. The paper, the failed attempts, it made her question calling herself an inventor. It was who she was, yes, but why did she have to be so… bad at being her? Why did she think that someone else could do a better job at being her? And why did she feel like a fraud when she did it wrong?
Because she was a fraud. She was nothing, she told herself. Nothing compared to who she wanted to be. She knew that in a few years time, she’d look back on herself and think about what a naive fool she was. To think she could be different? Be that one in a million? No.
She was barely a one in five.
Unfortunately for her, the evening wouldn’t remain quiet enough for her to keep wallowing in her self-pity. A shrill cry disrupted her silence, and she was snapped out of her thoughts. Her head shot up in surprise and slight worry, as it was obviously her mother.
Perhaps she’d dropped something on her foot? Maybe she’d seen a big spider? She was filled with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. One one hand, she wanted to know she was safe, but on the other hand, she herself didn’t want to face whatever was making her mother shriek at such a high pitch.
Rayna sighed, gathering all the courage a nine-year-old could muster. Cautiously, she stood up from her bed, quietly making her way downstairs. As she got closer to the kitchen, the sounds of muffled chatter became louder, one voice being far louder and dominant than the other.
She opened the door slowly, almost fearful of what would meet her eyes. And she was right to be.
Her heart dropped, and her eyes widened in utter horror as she saw her mother lying on the floor, her features contorted with utter distress, her hands held up to cover her face. Above her was Rayna's father, looming over her. His dark, malevolent eyes gleaming in the gentle light of the kitchen, a stark contrast to the roughness he had clearly been showing.
“Mum…?” She breathed out, her voice barely audible, “Are you okay?…” She whispered, both concerned and furious.
Her mother nodded, “I’m fine, Rayna. I’m fine. Just go back upstairs, it’s safer.” She mumbled, not even looking her in the eyes as she attempted to dissuade her from getting involved.
But her daughter loved her too much to just leave her.
“Safe?” Her father scoffed, “You’re telling me that I’m some sort of hazard? Let me tell you something, love. You wouldn’t be in this position if you weren’t being a disobedient wench.” He grunted, his words scathing and slurred.
Rayna had seen this before. Him, dazed and disoriented. She knew he was emotionally abusive, but she didn’t know he was also physically abusive.
Her mother shot a glance in her direction, making a silent plea for her to just go back upstairs, to not cause a fuss, but the girl was frozen. Her bright mind dimmed. Her racing thoughts came to a halt, and as she stared at the man that she called her father, her world began to crumble as she took in the lie that he’d wrapped himself up in.
“Well? Are you going to run upstairs to ‘safety’? Start crying like usual?” He taunted, a grin on his face that sparked a flame in his daughter.
He wasn’t nice. Not like she thought he was. He wasn’t the devil incarnate. He was the devil. The devil didn’t have red horns and a tail, the devil had black hair and drinking habits. The devil wasn’t a lonely, vengeful little creature on someone’s shoulder, he was a malicious man with a wife and daughter.
She was the devil’s daughter.
Taking in his words, she shook her head slowly, gaping as the realisation hit her harder than a pistol in the eye. The throbbing in her heart more powerful and disruptive than a migraine. This time, she wasn’t going to run. She knew that both her and her mother would be in great danger if she didn’t do something. Something quick.
He hummed almost scornfully, practically radiating condescension, “Silent treatment? On second thought, maybe you should grow up first, then maybe you’ll know what’s good for you.” He spat.
She blinked in surprise, not expecting to be in the crossfire of such hateful words. Although, for some reason, she felt like she’d been kicked in the gut by that sentence, and it hurt. She’d always thought of herself as a lovable and kind person, but something about him made her question those thoughts. The fact that she was even related to him made her skin crawl, but it was a cruel truth, and her last name was simply proof of that fact. She had to carry that like the burden it was.
But she quickly sprung into action as he took another step towards her mother, “Don’t.” She warned. “Don’t do it.”
He huffed in amusement, “Really? Do you plan on stopping me?”
Her eyes narrowed in defiance, although a hint of fear still lingered, and the way her hands shook was a testimony to that. Every bone in her body was telling her to get the hell out of there, but every muscle told her to protect what she loved. Protect who she loved, “Yes, yes I do.”
“Oh? You and what army?”
“I don’t need an army to take down a brute.” She growled, her perception of danger quickly growing as she watched his features twist in revulsion.
That look was all he needed to give her, as he turned back towards her mother, clearly having evil intentions.
Rayna couldn’t help but shrink, she didn’t know how to stop what was happening in front of her. She was feeble, he went to the gym on a regular basis. She wasn’t used to getting into altercations like this, he was bold. However, something about the way her mother curled up to protect her head ignited determination in her heart, as she remembered who she was doing this for.
She stepped into the kitchen, her eyes settling on a knife in the sink. She swiftly clutched it, her hands clammy with nerves as she held it up in the air, “If you don’t stop, I’ll use this.” She threatened, waving it around and trying to look careless.
The man rolled his eyes, but an unsettled look had crawled into his eyes, “Oh yeah? You’re gonna use that on me?” He asked, clearly not believing her. “As if you’d know how to use it.” He muttered gruffly, trying to convince himself more than her.
She shook her head, slowly lowering the knife, “You’re right, I don’t. But maybe I don’t need to know how to use it.”
His eyebrows shot up in confusion as he tried to decipher the reasoning behind her sudden surrender. Out of pure perplexity and uncertainty, he looked back towards his wife, a dangerous glint in his eye, “You-” He practically trembled as he cut himself off, unsure of what to say. But Rayna was sure that it would’ve been some sort of profanity. Before she knew it, he was lunging forward to grab her.
“I’m doing it!” Rayna announced over the cries of her mother. With a tight grip on the knife, she slashed her thigh, wincing in pain as it stung excruciatingly, as if scolding her for carrying out such a foolish act. She ignored the burning sensations, squeezing her eyes shut tightly.
She felt her skin begin to cry, it’s crimson tears streaming down her thigh, warm against her flesh. Its pungent stench reached her nostrils almost immediately. It became apparent that her physical being wasn’t the only one in pain. Her soul, of course, felt as if it were smothering her, her lungs felt like they were collapsing. She felt like she was collapsing.
Each drop of blood was like a reminder of how far she had gone. The effort she’d made to make her parents understand that she wasn’t bluffing. But what meant more to her was proving to herself that she was worth something. That she had a meaning in a world that made her feel as if she were a nobody who’s natural state was one of numbness.
And that’s something she’d never feel sorry for.
No matter how hard it was, or whatever she had to do. She didn’t think she’d ever find someone who could push her as far as she herself did. To drag her into places she wasn’t meant to be. On a constant battlefield, fighting with her fists against her mind which was armed with a gun that had far too much ammunition. Memories of mistakes she’d made in the past, of people she’d wronged and of things she’d ruined.
She slowly pulled the knife away from her leg. The cut wasn’t deep enough to paralyse her or anything, but it was deep enough for her to know it’d leave a scar. She let out a quiet breath, an almost crazed expression on her face as she watched her parents’ eyes widen in alarm. She relished in the sounds of her mother’s horrified gasp and her father’s regretful silence. It was clear that her attempt to stop her father had been successful, and she found herself getting high on their panic.
